


Wonderland

by merrabeth



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Au of sorts, M/M, Mickey POV, but 3rd person narraration, kinda eery, not sure what kind, spoiler: kissing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrabeth/pseuds/merrabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey has detention on Halloween, and he sees a guy looking rather suspiciously. He's sure it's nothing, but he's a bit caught up- on his own accord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't late haha I wasn't expecting it to mention Halloween so heavily. This is also a real thing that happened (not exactly): I had detention and saw some dude in the building across the street leaning out the window and I had three hours to think of a gallavich related incident so I did.

It was snowing on Halloween.

If Mickey believed much in a God, he’d say God was trying to send a message. It was the third year in a row where the weather was most unfit for the nationally loved holiday. He remembers walking home last year during a downpour, and the year before he nearly froze to the sidewalk from how freezing it was. He heard one of his classmates exclaim how God must have hated us, that’s why he was giving such bullshit weather.

But it didn’t bother Mickey any. He knew Halloween were for people who could a $4 bag of candy to hand out freely to ungrateful fucks who didn’t need it in the first place. But he never had to worry about any brats coming up to his porch anyways. The Milkovich household was strictly “Come and Die” house year round, 365 days a year and it rarely was anything but.

As soon as the wind had picked up, the blizzard that was seemingly going on outside stopped immediately. Dammit, could God make up his mind? Do we or do we not deserve to be complete idiots on this day?

“Makes no sense, does it?” Ms. Carter asked, staring out the window. Mickey wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or him. It wasn’t until she turned to him, her brown eyes calm. But Mickey never trusted those eyes; she was the Dean of Discipline, after all. And ever since she got the title, she’s been more of a hard ass than usual. The former Dean of Discipline, Mr. Kyle, was never this harsh. So he hesitated, cautious.

“Yeah, no it doesn’t. It’s not even winter yet.”

She nodded in agreement. Mickey suspected he was talking to the real calm and collected Ms. Carter that was his teacher two years ago when he was a sophomore. “Right? And it took so long last year for the snow to come. Like, a few months ago we were stuck with snow days because it was so freezing.”

“It’s probably not gonna stop snowing all year now.”

“Why do I hear talking?” Mr. Brown bellowed from his chair in the corner, next to the windows. His eyes weren’t very visible given the glare of the lights reflecting on his glasses, but Mickey knew he was looking at him. “Sir, you’re in detention. You shouldn’t be talking.”

Mickey sat up and looked to the innocent looking Ms. Carter. “She started talking to me,” he replied defensively. He looked to her again for support, but all he saw were dead, cold eyes.

“That’s no excuse to speak,” she stated. Before Mickey could rebuttal, she walked off, talking to everyone in the lunch room. “Ladies and gentlemen, you guys are in detention! Talking is not an option unless you wanna land yourself right back here next Friday. If someone speaks to you, whether it be an adult or student, you tell them, ‘Hey, I can’t talk’. Or better yet, don’t respond at all. Consider this your all-around warning.” She ended her spiel with a look at Mickey, one that always confused him if she was being serious or not. He looked straight ahead, out the window, to avoid rolling his eyes at the nonsense that was his school’s discipline system.

Well, now that the snow had stopped for maybe the fifth time today, the scenery was rather uneventful. His school was downtown in a high-rise and they sat on the 7th floor, three floors from the top. He was fortunate that detention was the biggest area in the school. He’d probably die if they made him stare at a wall. At least here, there was a wall of windows to peer through. Even though all he saw were buildings, it was intriguing. For example, from where he sat, he could see a guy open his window. He had on a green hoodie with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He wore a black hate under his hood, and as he leaned out of the window, Mickey only wondered what underground rap battle was he late for. He smirked to himself at his own hilarity.

But then Mickey really did begin to wonder, in his state of boredom, what the guy could have possibly been looking at. Was he just watching people walk below as he was above? Was he looking for a pizza delivery man? Maybe the guy was waiting on his drug deal. Before he knew it, he was bombarded with ideas on what in the world this guy could be doing with the window open and sticking his upper body out into the freezing cold. He’d been staring so intently that he hadn’t noticed when the guy drew back inside and closed the window. There went his source of entertainment for the next three hours.

But the three hours went by surprisingly fast. Before Mickey knew it, an hour was gone after taking attendance for everyone that was in detention in the first place. He barely remembers when Mr. Brown told the senior guys they could line up and go to their lockers, retrieve their things and head for the elevator.

Mickey took his time going up the stairs, mostly because he didn’t keep track of the fucking weather to know today was supposed to be an on/off blizzard of “fuck you”. So, of course, he hadn’t brought a hat to wear when his hood decided it couldn’t compete with the downtown wind. And even though it was 4:30, a regular school day, almost, he wasn’t really looking forward to going home early.

Mickey pondered. He had a few dollars; maybe he could roam around Target with his $2 medium hot chocolate and maybe snag a candy bar or two- but it was Halloween, he quickly reminded himself as he stepped outside and witnessed the massive crowd walking back and forth as an incoherent wave of annoying, and he really didn’t want to bother with that.

But he could still get the hot chocolate.

The Dunkin Donuts was around the corner for him, and he kept his head down against the rain prickling his face. He was grateful for the warmth of the small café.

Once he had his hot chocolate, he lingered, not really relishing going back into the cold. He could wonder around, look at all the parents persistent on letting their kids go trick-or-treating in this dank ass weather. Yeah, he’d do that. He tried to take a sip, even after blowing, and burned his mouth instantly, jolting him to make his exit for the cold air that’d cool down his scalding beverage.

As he headed for the door, he felt his hot chocolate slosh onto his hand when someone flew past him. He’d caught the guy responsible for the small burn tingling his hand and was quick to react. “Watch where you’re goin’, Slim Shady.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the guy said. When Mickey gave a double take, he realized it was the same guy that leaned out his window; the same guy with the green hoodie and freckled arms and black cap. Mickey could see his face clearly now and was struck by…something. He guessed it was probably how young he looked, his cheeks still a bit chubby and covered in faded freckles; his eyes were green in this light, and shifting, like he was nervous. Mickey knew he still gave many people fear, and it was quite great for him, but Mickey doubted it was because of _him._

“It’s al…right.” He mumbled as the boy walked frantically. Mickey shoved, figuring maybe his guess about the drug dealer was spot on.

Mickey would blame high school. He was supposed to drop out freshman year, but his advisor and the principal were keen on keeping him there, almost against his will. His father disapproved whole-heartedly, but Mandy may have convinced her dad that it could work better in their favor, and maybe he just got too tired of thinking about it to fight it anymore; whatever.

But anyways, Mickey would blame high school for making him care. He’d grown this really emotion that was buried well deep inside him called sympathy. It made his stomach turn and his chest tighten- just as it did now, seeing the guy’s face, nervous, as he walked near Millennium Park.

It was a good 5-10 minute walk from Dunkin Donuts to there, and by the time he made it and found an empty bench to park on, his hot chocolate was drinkable.

Mickey knows he’s made the right decision when he sees a little girl with some sparkly dress poking out of her fluffy coat that keeps her warm. He smiles in the ridiculousness of it, but it’s probably because he’s never gone trick-or-treating before. Terry could never be bothered with them when he could be getting drunk and their mother was usually tending to said drunken Terry. But he’s sure he hasn’t missed out on anything. Free candy Day? You mean last Tuesday? Or next Friday? Incredible.

His peripheral caught on someone sitting next to him. He knows a few years ago, he’d make a fuss instantly by anyone even trying to come into contact with them. Now, he merely gave a subtle glance to whoever was going to annoy Mickey.

And of course it would be the ginger Slim Shady.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He allowed himself to fuss. The green eyes shifted to him, at the outburst. “Are you following me or somethin’?” When he got no response only seconds later, he let himself inquire. “Is someone following _you_?”

The boy looked behind him, as if maybe Mickey wasn’t speaking to him. “Yeah, something like that.” He sat back, getting comfortable. “I just need to make myself inconspicuous for a bit.”

Mickey nodded. “Put yourself in a crowded place. Got it.”

They were silent as Mickey finished his hot chocolate, reveling the few drops that were the chocolaty-est. He felt his heart pounding at the question that was tearing at his insides. He took in a deep breath. “What are you hiding from, exactly?”

The question seemed to throw the guy for a loop, and his mouth hung open as he searched for a good answer. “Let’s just say cheating is really bad, and the consequences may be deadlier than you think.” His green eyes bore into Mickey’s and he was sure the message came across clearly.

They were silent again, acting as though they were preoccupied by the freezing children and their irritated parents. “Who even goes trick-or-treating down here anyways?” Mickey found himself saying aloud. It earned him a laugh from the boy beside him and he wasn’t gonna lie to himself, Mickey liked how it sounded.

“If you go into some of these buildings that have a million different businesses in them, they give out candy like you’re back in your neighborhood. Like the DePaul Center? I wouldn’t go there today if I were you.”

Mickey grunted. “Can’t go anywhere today. Too much noise.” He took a glance over at the stranger and found him smiling. “What?”

“I’m sorry, are you some grumpy old man? You look great for your age.”

Mickey chuckled. “Ay, fuck off. I don’t have to be an old man to think this is too much work for one day of the year.”

“Shit,” he heard the boy hiss. He tensed up next to Mickey, and he looked in the direction the boy was staring. The only thing that caught Mickey’s eye was the blond girl, brown eyes glaring down the boy next to him. Even through confusion, he found himself speaking again, and he’s sure he wouldn’t have done this a few years ago.

“Hey, you ever heard of 13th Floor?” It worked in getting the boy’s attention. He turned back, trying to remain calm, but he couldn’t ignore that _she_ found him. He shook his head.

“It’s really cool, man. It’s a haunted maze. I can show you where it is.” The boy nodded again and they were off.

* * *

 

Mickey was happy for the mass of bodies walking their opposite direction. When they started walking, he made few subtle glances back to find that the blond was indeed following them.

“So, uh, that chick-“

“Yeah.”

“You cheated on her.” Mickey spoke as if it was a factual statement, to which the boy turned.

“No.” He sighed and walked a bit faster. Mickey suspected the boy could see he was confused. “Her boyfriend…cheated on her…with me.”

 _You’re gay_. The statement was stuck in his mind as the question stumbled out. “So why the fuck is she chasing you?”

“Because she’s fucking _trash_ …and so is her boyfriend.” He glanced back before turning to Mickey. “What’re you starin’ at? Yeah, I’m fuckin’ gay. Got nothin’ to be shamed of.” He uttered the words like he was used to saying them. Another point for Mickey’s sympathy- no, no _this_ was empathy.

“I didn’t say anything,” mumbled Mickey, walking faster to keep up with the taller boy. “It’s at the John Hancock building. We’re gonna have to turn right.”

They made it to an opening right in front of the building. There were stairs that lead down into an open space usually used as a resting point for tourists and outside space for restaurants in the basement of the building. But it was now clear completely, and the opening leading to the door was filled with families, people of all kind wanting to get into the haunted house. The followed the line that was going inside and wrapped around to a queue of elevators. It was surprising how quickly they went through the line. And as they filed onto the elevator, they saw the blond girl sneer at them as the door closed.

“You didn’t have to come, y’know,” the boy whispered in the rather large elevator. Despite its size, it was packed, making noticing its size rather contradictory. Mickey looked up as he felt the boy trembling next to him. He never had rolled down his sleeves, and Mickey wondered if that was the cause of his tremors.

He only shrugged in response. He wasn’t going to admit that he liked the boy’s face and his laugh. Plus, there were things this guy didn’t know about him. They were still very much strangers.

Once the elevator door opened, it was pitch black with multicoloured lights flashing to help guide their way. Mickey remembered a year ago when Mandy had suggested they came here, and there was a closet Mickey remembers them hiding in for who knows how long, listening to others scream. There was something Mickey liked about the oblivion before his eyes, unaware of exactly where his sister was, but hearing her giggle next to him, to hear the muffled cries. It all excited him. Once they’d gotten far enough inside the maze, he grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him in the direction he remembered from the year prior.

But unlike last year, he let his hand roam the walls for a light switch. He found it successfully and was met with disgruntled face. Before he could ask what the fuck Mickey was doing, he explained.

“She’s coming up with the next batch. You can wait it out here and make your escape later back to your apartment.”

The boy was ready to say something, but his lips snapped shut at what Mickey mentioned. “How do you know I live in an apartment?”

“I could see you from my school in the building across from yours. It’s on 1 N State St.”

The boy’s eyes lightened. “You go to the high school there.” He motioned to Mickey’s khaki pants and laughed. “I go to the high school opened up right next to you.” Mickey raised an eyebrow as if he was impressed by the notion. The possibility that he could see this guy again was burning underneath the surface of his excitement. “But…it’s Friday. What were you doing there so late?”

“Detention.”

The boy bit his lip and Mickey was sure they both heard his breath stutter at that. “A bad boy, huh?”

Mickey nodded with a wave of heat washing over him. Was it just him or was it seriously getting hot in the cramped space. He didn’t want to notice how close they were, how the light shone down on the taller boy perfectly. It was dim, but when he took off his hat and hood, it was clear he had red hair, dark and crimson like blood.

“How have I never seen you before?” Mickey muttered, still taking in the new information of the guy in front of him.

He smirked. “I could say the same thing.” Mickey felt another wave of heat as those green eyes trailed over his body.

“Ok,” Mickey sighed, and tried to step back; he failed. “It’s seriously getting too hot in here.” Fuck, was there a furnace in there?

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” He gave a sweet smile that Mickey had no choice but to laugh at.

“Fuck off, dude.” The guy laughed with him, and he was sure he loved the sound of it.

“No, seriously. I should probably go. I’m gonna have to face her some time. Might as well do it now than later, and maybe catch her off guard.”

“Guess you learned not to mess with guys that aren’t available.” Mickey tried to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed. “I’m trying, honestly. ‘S just so hard to find one that isn’t a fuckin’ liar, y’know? They all got baggage.”

Mickey shrugged. “Everyone’s got baggage. Just, some baggage is safer to carry than others.” And if he was surprised at anything about himself, those words just made the number one spot.

It was as if the guy knew that, too. He stared into Mickey, and it was like he understood what Mickey’s baggage was, and he knew exactly how to carry it. He could feel his heart thud faster; he wasn’t sure what this emotion was, but he was sure he’d learn the name of it, some day.

“What’s yours?”

“My what, my baggage?” Mickey asked in clarification. “Trust me, my baggage is dangerous. Not “I’m Taken” dangerous, but something that’s just as bad.” The honesty was new, too.

The ginger nodded in understanding. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s not just about how safe it is to carry, but if it’s worth it.”

Maybe the metaphor had gone too far, because Mickey was confused. “Huh?”

“What’s your name?” his voice had turned sultry and low as he stepped forward. There wasn’t much space to begin with.

“Mickey.” His mouth was on autopilot, because all Mickey could think was of how hot it had gotten, like an oven, and the guy moved forward. He caught that smile before the lights turned off.

Before Mickey could protest- as if he wanted to- he felt the boy’s lips on his; and every instinct told him to grab the guy’s shoulders and push him away, but he only grabbed on for stability, because he was sure he’d float right away with the lack of oxygen was getting. He wanted to make it deeper, taste the boy holding onto him, but he finally pulled back, and all they could hear were the sounds of their harsh breathing drowning out the muffled screams from outside the closet.

“I’ll see you around, Mickey.” And a gush of cool air met Mickey’s face before he was left in total darkness, all alone.

He turned his head, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but he knew they never would. It was pitch black, and the excitement was already washed over his body; he felt his lips turn into a smile. He’d hope he’d see the guy again.

“Senior boys!” Mickey heard as the light filled his vision. He turned to see Mr. Brown still sitting in the high chair in the corner by the windows. Mickey sat straighter. “Line up by the door quietly, or you can stay till five with the Freshman boys.”

“Mickey,” he heard Ms. Carter whisper behind him as she placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned to see her face completely. “I’ve never seen you so still. I was going to ask if you were okay-“

“Nah, I-I’m fine,” Mickey reassured. “I’m fine.” He got up from the stool, letting the blood flow back to his legs and looked out the window. Someone had closed the blinds to the window where the boy had been leaning out. Was he staring the whole time? Never once has he daydreamed so heavily before. Was that even possible? Had he dreamt the whole thing?

He went to the elevator alone, unable to shake the feeling of how _real_ it all felt. And how was he able to think the boy up? Completely insane.

He walked up the stairs and felt the cold hair hit him before he even got to the top. He ripped off the bandages that covered his tatted knuckles before putting on his gloves. He knew he still had those few dollars. He could still get hot chocolate…but he ended up walking in the opposite direction, heading toward the John Hancock building.

As he walked, he looked back down the street to where he’d turned the corner in his daydream, where the Dunkin Donuts was and where-

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” he heard someone apologize after the collided together. He felt strong hands on his shoulders as they tried to recollect Mickey’s balance.

“Yeah, just-“ He wasn’t sure what his face could have possibly shown as he looked to meet the same green eyes he’d discovered at Millennium Park, in his dream. “Hey.”

The boy smiled, just how he had in the closet as he found his balance. “Hi.” His hat was disheveled, revealing red strands that were brighter than what Mickey’d seen in the dim lighting of the closet. But those were the same faded freckles, the same green hoodie and strong arms on display with the rolled up sleeves. But he wasn’t nervous; he didn’t look a bit frantic or ready to run away. Was it possible that Mickey had dreamt up something false yet so real?

He’d thank still being in school for letting him stick around to find out.


End file.
